


Natural Selection

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mating Season, Mild Angst, Oneshot, Sequel, challenge, heat - Freeform, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning change of seasons means mating time in the jungle. Something that Shrapnel loathes entirely... and something that someone else just may take advantage of. Mech/Mech Slash. Sequel to "Natural Instinct"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Selection

**C.M.D: Shortly after _Natural Instinct_ , the idea for this sequel came along and was written within a matter of hours really. I think it's a good representation of Bombshell and Shrapnel (without being horribly OOC), not to mention a good depiction of what an insecticon relationship might look like. Please enjoy!  
Originally posted on FF.net.**

The Indonesian jungle was a buzz with thriving life this day; the sun beating down on the thick trees, warming the already humid air and causing the shaded jungles to grow a tad more sweltering. Water ran between the trees in a maze of hundreds of twisting, weaving lines- a brown, sloshing mass that ran thin or thick in certain areas. If a human were to venture into the jungle this day, they'd have found a strange sight resting on one of the river banks: a large, purple and black individual sitting in the cool mud, with long, silver antennae like-structures on either side of its head.

Of course, if a human had been unwise as to come into the jungle today, they would have been swiftly and mercilessly crushed or consumed by the insecticon.

As it was, Shrapnel had no such blissful distraction and his optics were glued to the air enviously. While the animal life was lying low because of the hot temperature, the jungle's insect life was socializing in the multitudes. Millions upon millions of the various critters flew, crawled or otherwise skittered through the foliage; humming and clicking and simply buzzing with the harmonized sounds that their little organic forms made. Today must have counted the beginning of the planet's rebirth cycle, for the only thing the insecticon could see were the clouds of winged bugs zipping and thrumming obnoxiously as they wooed potential mates.

Their primitive methods worked for the most part, because no sooner was the female won over before her mate mounted her and set to work on copulating. The insects' eagerness to start their brood angered their silent watcher, who with a crackle of his antennae shot down a whole clot of them with his lightning. Sneering at the blackened, twitching remains, Shrapnel rose to his pedes, stomping away from the embankment and the hordes of coupling insects.

But once he was back under the cool darkness of the thick trees, he felt his earlier depression and jealousy return to him.

It wasn't fair!

Shrapnel clicked mournfully in the back of his vocalizer, collapsing on his aft in some massive, tangling roots. Beneath his plating, he could feel his valve ripple and clench; slicked with lubricants and aching to be filled. Shivers ran down his spinal struts and his antennae shook with want, as his spark and coding demanded he continue his search for a mate. The need to copulate like his organic insect brethren was impossible to resist. But the one he wanted refused to start a brood with him!

With a whine, the insecticon pressed further into the tree, his servos fisting the soft moss below. If he'd been any stronger, he'd have chased after Kickback some more, but his mating protocols were weakening him... He should have been connected to his dimmer companion several cycles before, but instead the grasshopper continued to ignore him. Whimpering this time as his lust spiked, Shrapnel rolled over completely, burying his face into the moist, dank jungle earth.

Rustling broke the insecticon from his trance -slowly, he shoved himself back up, glaring over his shoulder plating at the mech that just stepped through the underbrush. Pausing, Bombshell cocked his helm a little at the hostility he received from his leader; folding his servos behind his back as he stepped closer.

"Is something wrong?," the rhinoceros beetle asked.

Shrapnel hissed, sitting upright completely now, crossing his legs to try and push down the ache. "Nothing; nothing," he replied, his vocalizer echoing his short answer.

Bombshell came even closer, his helm canting in a show of innocent curiosity. "But leader," the other insecticon rumbled deeply, "You have been seemingly upset the past few orns. Are you certain that there is nothing troubling you?"

Shrapnel was silent, scowling, as his shoulder plating hunched defensively. He did not like the way the taller mech's vocalizer made his circuits crackle or the flashing of that red visor as Bombshell closed into his personal space.

"And where is Kickback, I wonder, hmm?"

"It matters not; not!," the stag beetle snapped, trying to retreat too late. He realized that he had no where to go, stuck between the tree he was pinned against and his comrade's looming frame. With a snarl, he reacted, shoving at the other's chestplates. "Back off, Bombshell; shell! You are over-stepping your place; place!"

The other's visor flashed again. Before Shrapnel could respond, Bombshell lashed out; one servo slamming him into the tree, the other caging his wrist in an iron-clad grip. "Really now?," cooed the rhinoceros beetle. "Am I really over-stepping myself, leader? Is it not proper of me to be concerned by your odd behaviour, especially when it might interfere with our duties?"

The larger insecticon pushed the other mech further into the tree's bark. "Or maybe you just don't care after all. Maybe you're just too busy trying to bend over and feed yourself with that idiot's spike, when he clearly doesn't care nor want you. Silly, little pleasure 'bot... you'd sell yourself to anyone, just so that moron would pretend to seek you as a mate!"

Shrapnel twisted in Bombshell's hold, taking his other servo and punching the rhinoceros beetle's face. Grunting in pain, his comrade still did not release him, instead slamming the smaller mech back into the tree again. Snarling, Bombshell forced his leader to the ground, straddling him quickly and pinning both of his arms above his helm. Shrapnel clicked and snapped at him in fury; his assailant merely returned the primal insults with his own buzzing growl.

"You will yield," the other snarled, wrestling his writhing companion's legs open. "I will not be ignored in favour of some useless, eight-bit larvae."

"You do not command me; me!," the stag beetle shouted back, bucking up against Bombshell. "Release me now; now. Before I-"

Shrapnel's words were cut off as he was suddenly back-handed. His processor spinning, he struggled weakly as he was moved around, his faceplates pushed into the mud and his aft lifted up into the air. Hissing, he caught onto what was happening, but before he could respond, Bombshell was forcing back his codpiece and thrusting into his wet valve. Insults and anger disappeared immediately at the penetration, Shrapnel gasping to the heavens above.

"Yes, yes; yes!" His fingers dug into the tree's roots as the other insecticon broke into a desperate pace, eager to finally be full. Bombshell groaned lowly at Shrapnel's moans, grabbing his leader about his waist tightly as he quickened his thrusts. Too long he'd waited for this moment; he would not let the stag beetle go so easily now.

It was easy to give into his core programming. The stretching of his valve around Bombshell's spike was too perfect, and the sensation of lubricants and transfluids being mixed thoroughly along his sensor nodes was heavenly in nature. Immediately, Shrapnel felt his reproduction tanks unlock, waiting for the moment when his partner overloaded. No longer did he curse the impertinent rhinoceros beetle in his helm, nor did he waste a single thought more on Kickback, the one he'd been longing for all this time to be his mate.

"D-do...do you see now, leader?," Bombshell growled, snapping his hips forward roughly, drawing a whimper of delight from Shrapnel. "Kickback could never appreciate what you were so foolishly offering hi-him. What h-he's neglected, I have t-taken by force! B-but perhaps now you m-may be satisfied w-with the strong brood we shall lay after t-this consummation."

"Yes; yes," the smaller insecticon cried, grinding back into each of the vicious thrusts, "Th-the brood wi-will be s-strongest; strongest!"

The proclamation sent chills of desire down the rhinoceros beetle's spinal struts. Pulling out quickly, Bombshell spun Shrapnel around; smothering his leader as he slammed back into the hungry valve, fluids squelching between their entwined frames. Deliriously, Shrapnel reached up for his partner's face, his fingers winding into the gaps between Bombshell's mouth guard, while the other servo pressed the insecticon closer to himself.

A part of him wished to kiss the larger insecticon, but could not find the strength to tear off his mask nor make his plea. Instead, Shrapnel wrapped his legs tighter around Bombshell's waist, arching back and screaming as his partner rolled against a series of sensitive nodes deep within his rippling valve.

"T-the perfect b-brood; brood," the stag beetle gasped faintly, "Bo-bombshell w-will make the be-best nest; nest! S-sparklings to cr-create a c-colony; colony!"

"Yes," the taller mech hissed. He pressed his chestplates down onto Shrapnel's, grinding them together as he felt their sparks pulsate hungrily for the other. His leader's words -though more than likely meaningless during the euphoric haze of their coupling- were enough to fan Bombshell's lust and his pride. His fingers tightened around his partner's waist as he tore his face away from Shrapnel's grip; burying his olfactory sensor deep into the other's neck cables. He was so close to completion, and judging by the fluctuation of the smaller insecticon's energy field and the sporadic clenching of his sweet port, it seemed Shrapnel was as well.

The news excited the rhinoceros beetle further who forced himself to go faster, trying to bury himself deep within the clamping walls and tearing himself out just as quick when they tightened around him like a vice.

"Yes, Shrapnel," Bombshell growled, wheezing slightly as he mounted towards his peak, "W-we shall make a st-strong colony -you a-and I! N-not that blubbering fo-fool you were s-so silly to t-try and mate with. H-he could never c-compare to me!"

Shrapnel bucked upwards wildly in his grasp. "Yes, yes; yes! B-bombshell i-is best; best. The b-brood wi-will be gr-greatest; greatest!" The fingers against his backstruts stiffened, digging into the seams painfully. Hurriedly, Bombshell withdrew a little, watching as his leader's optics blackened and his helm fell back; antennae sparking with electricity as they shivered violently against the bark. Shrapnel was right on the edge...

"And you...," the other mech growled, his optics alighting with new desire as he rammed into the complacent insecticon. "You shall always belong to me!"

The roar of ownership was too much for the stag beetle to handle. With a choked scream, he overloaded, all of his limbs tightening and capturing Bombshell tight to his frame. Grunting as liquid heat surrounded his spike, Bombshell thrust erratically into the mewling Shrapnel before reaching his own peak with a static-laced moan. He felt vividly as the other insecticon tensed beneath him, rolling slowly back into the rhinoceros beetle; seeking the final dregs of pleasure and trying to guide all of the rich transfluid down into his reproduction tanks. For a moment, Bombshell did nothing, letting Shrapnel do as he wished until his joints unlocked and his intakes came in even, measured cycles.

When he felt ready enough, the taller mech nudged under his leader's chin, starting up a slow grind again. "Open your chestplates," he demanded coldly, nuzzling the scraped plating, "The copulation is not finished."

Shrapnel stiffened again at the command, some sense returning to him. With unexpected strength, he grabbed the cannon atop of Bombshell's helm, forcing the insecticon back. Bombshell almost snarled at the action, not having expected such retaliation so far along now. Yet, before he could grab Shrapnel's wrist and break into another 'face, the stag beetle was releasing his helm; optics dimming and faceplates organized into an almost simpering expression.

"You... y-you, Bombshell, vow to make strong brood; brood? You p-promise t-to... p-protect nest; nest? T-to raise young; young? To m-make g-good colony; colony?"

This was a startling turn around. Bombshell stilled, staring silently into Shrapnel's anxious optics. Never had he seen such uncertainty in the other insecticon before. It almost made the stag beetle endearing.

"Of course," he rumbled, pushing his leader back onto the ground and rolling his hips again, "I will keep good and well all that is mine."

Shrapnel moaned softly, pulling Bombshell closer, his chestplates sliding open in response to the earlier demand. Bombshell tried not to smirk as he glimpsed the swollen, violet orb before his own spark was bared and he slammed the two together.

Any thought after that was lost to their cries and grunts of copulation and the buzz of the jungle all around them.


End file.
